Fair Warning
by Evenmoor
Summary: Agent Snow's boss sends his personal wetworks guy to have a chat about the ongoing debacle involving a certain former operative. One shot.


**Title: **Fair Warning  
><strong>Setting: <strong>Post Season 2 for _Covert Affairs_, during episode 1.15 "Blue Code," for _Person of Interest_  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Ben Mercer, Mark Snow  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own the characters or either series. I'm just borrowing them for your reading pleasure.  
><strong>AN:** Anyone else spot certain similarities between Mercer and Reese? Though I'd love to see Auggie meet Reese, too... Just sayin'.

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><p>To the mindless masses, Mark Snow appeared to be just another white collar suit wasting someone else's money by spending time feeding the pigeons in Central Park. In the bright daylight of New York City, he in no way looked like a man who could infiltrate a terrorist hideout in the mountains of Afghanistan one night - then blend in and mingle with the rich and powerful at a black-tie charity ball in Paris the next. Few were as good at his job as he was, and even fewer took the same amount of pride in it that he did. Which was why his jaw tightened the way it did when someone sat down next to him on the bench.<p>

"Hello, Mark." Ben Mercer leaned back languidly, as much at ease as if he were lounging at a bar in Brazil. Unlike Snow, he was dressed casually to the point of sloppiness, his face unshaven and his clothes wrinkled as if he'd slept in them. It was all a facade, of course; Mercer was easily one of the most dangerous operatives the CIA had ever trained.

"I'd heard you'd come in from the cold," Snow observed, not turning to look at Mercer, "but I wasn't expecting _you _to be playing Arthur's messenger boy, Ben."

"You know, I was actually surprised when Arthur told me to come up here and have a chat with you," Ben casually remarked, completely ignoring Snow's quip. "For a moment, I wondered if he had the right guy. I mean, Mark Snow, one of _the _best guys in the Company - I wondered, 'how bad could it possibly be?'. And then I opened up a newspaper - a newspaper, mind you, not a Company file - and realized just how much you screwed this up. Lately you seem to have all the subtlety of an atomic bomb, Mark."

"You don't know John Reese like I do, Ben. He's better than good; he's the best."

"He's better than _you_, Mark, that's for sure. You did good work turning that NYPD detective into an asset; not so good when you shot Reese in front of her," Ben said dryly. "But even worse was that he got away anyway. All those guys on the roof, and he still managed to evade you. And you've completely burned Carter as an asset."

Snow shrugged, but he knew exactly what Mercer meant. They'd had a perfect line on Reese through her, and that line was likely cut forever now, even if he did come back into contact with her for some bizarre reason. According to years of training and experience, it was far more likely that Reese was thousands of miles from New York by now, never to return, but some instinct told Snow that John Reese had never even left the city at all_. _It couldn't be sentimentality that tied him here; John was far too pragmatic after his time with the Agency. "Detective Carter's usefulness came to an end when she brought John to us," Snow finally dismissed Ben's assessment.

Mercer chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Come on, Mark, you know better than that," he chided. "You've made a royal mess up here with Reese, you do realize that. And the fact that some undercover NYPD narcotics detective discovered one of Henry Wilcox's old side projects is only the latest fiasco. It's things like this that really make the Company look bad, and you know how much Arthur hates that."

Snow allowed a little incredulity to sneak into his voice. "You realize how ridiculous that sounds coming out of your mouth, Ben, after you spent _how long_ on the run?" Infuriatingly, though, Snow knew Mercer was right about the L.O.S. situation; that had to be dealt with quickly - and decisively. Henry Wilcox had plenty more dirty secrets where _that_ came from.

"Mark, the only reason you're still up here and not riding a desk down in the basement in Virginia is that you're pretty much the only agent who knew him that's also still standing. Fact is, John has made you and your entire team look like raw recruits just out of the Farm," Mercer said scornfully.

Snow finally turned to look directly at Mercer. "So what's Arthur's message, Ben?" he asked, still outwardly calm, cool, collected, calculating. The perfect agent. If only the reality matched the image.

"Clean up the mess here. That's it. I trust I don't have to add on any melodramatic threats. You already know how far Arthur will go," Mercer replied as he stood to leave.

Oh, yes, Snow knew. And he also knew how far Ben Mercer would go to see a mission through.


End file.
